


that ultra kind of love you never walk away from

by cardinal__sin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby Singer is Dean Winchester's Parent, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Episode: s15e20 Carry On, First Kiss, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, MCD tag because dean still dies here, fuck john winchester all my homies hate john winchester, like. yea john fucking sucked and hes in hell now and bobby was deans real dad so., sorry but like. i need heaven reunion deancas, sorry the tags are a mess, this is such a funny tag im so glad it exists, you may look at the tags and ask yourself "what the fuck?" well i gotta tell you i i feel the same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinal__sin/pseuds/cardinal__sin
Summary: "Dean parks Baby at the edge of a large field. Corn, he supposes, but then again, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that it’s miles away from the last house he saw and he can wade into the waist-tall crops and pray as loud as he can. If Bobby was right – and when is he not – this should work. He should hear Dean."or: Dean dies and goes to Heaven. As a side bonus to the heterosexual car also making it, the gay angel seems to have gotten in there as well.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	that ultra kind of love you never walk away from

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the last of the real ones by fall out boy simply because i can and also because the deancas hell we're living in right now is sponsored by their music. i dont make the rules, the hellers do. they're right tho
> 
> also: this is not beta read. i just have feels and write them down and post them for everyone to see because it literally cannot be worse than the actual canon.

It hurts.

It hurts more than being half beaten to death by his little brother, more than being shot, more than being dragged to Hell. It hurts because it is well and truly the end this time. No tricks, no resurrection, no divine intervention. Just a man, dying in a barn, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s not even his dying that hurts the most, probably. Well, he’s working with a collapsed lung and broken ribs as well as a shitton of internal bleeding so it obviously _sucks_ , but he’s had worse. Much worse. In terms of physical injury, this is a normal Tuesday. There’s a different pain making it worse this time.

Losing Cas… It broke him. The very core of him, of who he is as a person, of his will to live or carry on, it’s damaged goods now. And it’s easier to fake a smile and act like he’s barely affected, tell his brother that they need to move on. He’s preparing Sam.

The barn and the metal spike weren’t his _exact_ plans, but they do the job. He’s bleeding out and it only fills him with relief. It hurts to leave Sammy, it hurts to see him like this, and it hurts so damn much to leave everything behind right when their new life was about to start, but he knows it would hurt more if he carried on living.

He never got to say it back to Cas. He could barely understand what he was saying back there, adrenaline and panic filling his ears with static as he was trying to decipher Castiel’s words, the emotion behind them. But _I love you_ , he could hear loud and clear. And he wanted to say _I love you too, you idiot,_ so fucking much but he froze up, brain grinding to a halt as he looked at the tears in Cas’ eyes, at the rueful smile, at the _hope_ that Dean would say something other than the absolutely idiotic _don’t do this_.

So Cas died. For good, this time. There was no breaking him out, no way to free him from the Empty. And Dean knew there was nothing to his life without Castiel in it, no appeal, no _will_. He refused to keep on living without him there, because right when Dean could have had the one thing he wanted, he lost it for good.

Forty years was already a lot more than he’d ever imagined for himself. That’s what he told himself as he thought about it, as he slowly opened Sam up to the idea of letting go, moving on. It was a well-orchestrated plan and he carried it out perfectly.

“Dean,” Sam sobs, hands trembling as he just _looks_ , not daring to touch Dean for fear of breaking him down to dust, blown away in the wind.

“Dean, please, I’ll get you help, you’ll get better, it will be alright –”

And Dean says “Sam,” and gathers all his strength to bridge that gap between them and touch his little brother, assure him that he’s still there, he’s still real.

“Promise me you’ll move on,” he groans, each breath coming with more and more pain as his body loses strength, “promise me you won’t try to bring me back.”

Sam nods, his tears choking him, and Dean gives him a disapproving Big Brother Look until Sam manages a weak _I promise_.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” he asks, clutching onto his brother and sobbing into his shoulder. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. You’re my only family left, Dean, I can’t lose you too.”

Dean’s heart aches at the begging but there’s no going back now. He knows nothing will help him at this point, not even if he wanted it to. Cas could, maybe, but he’s. Well. He’s not there to heal Dean, not this time.

“Move on,” he says, blinking against the tears that spring into his eyes from the pain, “Family don’t end with blood and you know that. Build yourself a new one. Live your life. Use the bunker and gather hunters. Be their Bobby. Their Uncle Sam.”

Sam snorts and pulls away a little to glare at Dean. Dean wants to inform him that with all the tears and snot it’s not the most powerful look he’s ever managed.

“Uncle Sam, really.”

“Hey, I’m losing a gallon of blood here, not my sense of humor!”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean has to admit that their last insult to each other makes him cry a little. As much as he doesn’t want to carry on, he hates leaving Sam so early. But it will be good for him too. He’ll grieve and then he’ll move on, not burdened by the grief-broke husk of Dean Winchester. Live a full life like he was supposed to and _help people_.

“Hey Sammy,” he croaks, “I think this is it. I think –”

“It’s okay,” Sam says, sniffling, voice shaky, “it’s okay, Dean. You can go now. It’s alright.”

Dean feels himself fade, so for the last time he gathers all his strength and raises his hand to clasp Sam’s own, blood-stained one.

“I know I suck at emotions,” he says, lung threatening to give out with each syllable but he keeps on pushing, he needs to say it, “but I wanted you to know that I love you. And I’m – I’m proud that I was your big brother.”

Dean Winchester dies peacefully, held by family, just like he’d always wanted to go.

* * *

Heaven’s bright. And it looks a lot like Bobby’s front porch.

“And what the hell are you doing here already?” the man himself grouches, and Dean turns around on his heel to stare at the man who was his father more than his blood father with happiness mixed with disbelief.

“Took the highway,” he shrugs.

“Good to see you, Bobby.”

“You too, kid,” Bobby grumbles, and stands to pull Dean into one of those brisk hugs he never realized he’s been missing so much.

“So who else is here?” Dean asks, once Bobby made him sit and gave him an ice cold beer, “you in good company?”

“Yep,” Bobby says, “that boy of yours remodelled the place, so now it’s like life two-point-oh without the monsters. The Roadhouse is down a few miles there, and so are the Harvelles. If you fancy paying them a visit, that is.”

“I’d like that,” Dean nods, “but wait – you mean Jack?”

“That’s the one. He did this huge spring cleaning spree up here so now everything is as it should be. Dunno if he’ll come see you, kid, he and his feathered dad are mighty busy these days.”

Dean stares a little.

“Bobby,” he starts cautiously, “what do you mean?”

“What, what, that angel of yours, what else. Castiel. He’s been working a lot around here.”

“That can’t be,” Dean shakes his head, “Cas died.”

“He seemed plenty alive to me,” Bobby shrugs, “I’m sure you’ll see him around, son.”

“Yeah…” Dean trails off. He takes a swig of his beer to occupy himself, mind racing. He’s desperate to see if Bobby’s right. But… before that, there’s one thing he needs to know.

“Bobby?”

“Hm?”

“What about Dad?”

Bobby sighs, making an apologetic face.

“I’m afraid John didn’t cut it,” he mutters, “and, uh, hope you won’t hate me for saying this but I’m glad he didn’t.”

Dean’s first instinct is to argue. But then he remembers. The responsibility his father made him carry from when he was four years old. The way he spoke, like Sam was the only one that mattered. The way he treated Dean like a soldier when all he was was just a scared little boy wearing his dad’s leather jacket, holding a gun he never should have had to learn how to use. Yes, John made him into who he became and when push comes to shove Dean has to admit there were things about this life – the only life he ever really knew – that he enjoyed or outright loved. But that still doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have had a choice. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean he owes John Winchester anything.

“No,” he says eventually, feeling like a weight just disappeared from his shoulders, “I think I agree.”

It’s time for him to be who he is. Not John Winchester’s son. Just Dean Winchester. It’s time he lives his own (after)life.

“So Bobby,” Dean says, “if this whole Heaven deal is exactly like life on Earth, does that mean we get to have cars?”

Bobby laughs at that, honestly and loudly, vibrating deep in his chest. Dean’s been missing that sound.

“If that’s what you mean, Baby is right out back. They must have known you’d be asking for her. You wanna go for a joyride already?”

“I think I need to see more of this place. Take it all in, you know.”

“Take care, kid,” Bobby replies with a shrug, “you’re always welcome back here.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

Dean sets down his empty beer bottle on the bench, than, like an afterthought, turns to the only real father he’s ever had,

“There’s no such thing as a DUI in Heaven, right?”

Bobby’s hearty laugh rings in his ears even when he’s miles down the narrow dirt road.

* * *

Dean parks Baby at the edge of a large field. Corn, he supposes, but then again, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that it’s miles away from the last house he saw and he can wade into the waist-tall crops and pray as loud as he can. If Bobby was right – and when is he not – this should work. _He_ should hear Dean.

So he does exactly that, walks across the field to the sole tree standing in the middle of it. he sits down in the shade there and closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to scream. Heaven is the land of peace, and besides, his thoughts have always been loud enough for Cas to hear.

_Cas,_ he thinks, _God, this feels like calling someone’s cell just to hear their voice on the voicemail message. Anyway. Castiel. If you’re alive… I need you. Please, let me see you._

He doesn’t really know what to say. What _else_ to say. There’s not much more to it. He wants to see the best friend he lost not too long ago again. He’s always needed Cas and that hasn’t changed either – if anything, he needs him now more than ever. Needs to know he’s still there.

“Dean.”

Dean opens his eyes to the sound of rustling feathers and his mouth falls open as he takes in the man standing in front of him. The trench coat, the striped tie, the suit. The messy hair and those blue eyes that have always felt like they were staring straight into his soul. Maybe they were. Maybe they still are.

“Cas,” he breathes. He stumbles to his feet and takes a few tentative steps towards the angel, who just stands there, looking at him with this stern, puzzled look of his.

“Why are you here?” Cas asks, and _Hell_ , how Dean missed that gruff voice of his.

“Why are _you_ here?” he asks back instead, drawing up an eyebrow.

“I asked first.”

Dean suppresses a laugh.

“That’s just childish, Cas.”

The angel heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Jack… freed me. I don’t know how. But I’m here and I owe it to him.”

“Gripped you tight and raised you from perdition, huh,” Dean chuckles, eyes fixed on Cas, gauging his reaction.

“I – yes, you could say that.”

Cas stumbles over his own words a little and there’s a tiny hint of colour seeping onto his cheeks and Dean knows that he remembers.

“Tit for tat, I guess,” Dean sighs, “long story short, I died. Long story long involves vampire clowns and it’s pretty boring if you get into it, so I’ll just spare you the details.”

“You _what_?”

Cas looks _furious,_ burning with what Dean can only call a godly anger, as he looks at Dean.

“You finally had a life to live, a life without Chuck writing it for you, and you…died?”

“Yeah, if you put it like that it does sound kinda lame,” Dean shrugs, “but Cas. It’s okay. I wanted it.”

“But _why_?”

“’Cause I didn’t want to live a life that you weren’t a part of.”

Cas looks at Dean for a long time, studying his face with a small frown.

“I don’t understand,” he says finally.

“Wow,” Dean grumbles, “I swear you used to be smarter.”

“Dean.”

“Okay.” Well, here goes nothing. Or, well… Everything. “I couldn’t react before the Empty took you, Cas, but– What you said there, it’s– me too? Okay?” He spreads his arms and smiles a little, somewhat bitterly, “I freakin’ love you too, Cas.”

“Oh,” Cas says. He stands still for a worringly long time, so long that Dean almost asks him if he’s alright, when Cas finally starts moving again.

There’s a small tremble to his shoulders, his chest heaves, and his face crumples in that way that signals that he’s about to cry again. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, looking like a sad potato sack in his trench coat, staring at Dean with an expression of pure adoration louder than any word.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks finally, and Dean’s smile grows so wide it starts to hurt, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because Castiel, _his_ Castiel, is stepping closer to him and reaching out to cradle his face in those warm hands, and _this is what kissing Cas feels like, he finally knows, after years and years he finally knows how those chapped lips feel against his own and he doesn’t want it to ever stop._

When they finally part for air (and Dean turns away briefly to totally not wipe away any tears that may or may not be in his eyes) neither of them talk for a second. They don’t need to. They have both poured _everything_ into that kiss, a decade of unsaid things, of silenced confessions, of missed opportunities. Dean studies Cas’ face and he can only find _joy_ there, pure joy.

“So,” he says eventually, “I happened to see this empty cabin near Bobby’s, and I was thinking, if you’re not too busy rebuilding Heaven, we could –”

“I would like that,” Cas cuts him off with a warm smile, and Dean finds himself returning it. Just two lovesick idiots standing in a cornfield, holding hands, smiling at each other like they have nothing better to do.

They don’t, really. For the first time ever, there’s no rush at all.

They have eternity together.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! hit me up on social media or check out my other works: [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinal__sin) | [tumblr](https://cardinalxsin.tumblr.com/) | [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/cardinalxsin/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/cardinalxsin)
> 
> leave a comment or kudos if you liked this fic! i love hearing from my readers <3
> 
> also it's worth mentioning that dean being unwilling to live without cas and practically committing suicide was not my original idea, just a very hot take by several people on tumblr, they're the real galaxy brain people here. shoutout to them for giving me three new mental illnesses <3


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